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typewritingyip · 6 months ago

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The Arcturus Missions

Part Nineteen - Radio Waves

Part Eighteen

———

Back on that September day in 1984, scientists were more concerned with making a better bomb than they were anticipating needing to drastically change direction.

The first countries to have mech technology were, in order; Japan, the United States, the USSR, Ireland, and China. Japan had initially been working on the technology for deep sea exploration along with nuclear power plant maintenance and construction, effectively a way to use a human operator in environments non-conducive to human life. They had their first pilot ready and capable within six months of the first attack, Pilot 001, name Kantaro Tomiyama, died two years after the first attack.

Another four months after their first launch, the United States had their first suit and pilot, no number was assigned initially, now recognized as Pilot 002, name William Witwicky, callsign Sparkplug. He died three months into the program, many of his immediate successors remain alive though no longer pilot mech suits, his son is a notable engineer along with several other family and family friends.

People wondered initially where Ireland obtained the materials for their three launched mechs at the defense of the Isle of Man, then people began to see the similarities between the structural supports in the suits to oil rigging equipment in the North Sea.

As the list grew larger and more countries were able to provide assistance in the battle, the compatibility technology began to advance, no longer were pilots being jury rigged into the technology but adapted into the brain of the machine. Yet side effects remain, as human biology struggles to adapt to the needs of advancing technology. Though scientists continue to try and adapt the systems to be more compatible with biology.

All modern pilots have extended lifespans thanks to the sacrifices of these pioneers of mech technology.

—

It was still very bright in Iacon, even as it started to grow later in the day, Mirage was walking with Hound, smiling, “So, how do you find Iacon? Now that you’ve lived here for a bit.” Nodding a bit, Hound shrugged slightly, “It’s a beautiful city. Certainly bigger than any on Earth.” Of course it would be bigger, human cities were designed for significantly smaller beings but Mirage chuckled still, “It’s bigger than most on Cybertron to be fair and has been around for a very long time.” They go through the gate and back down to the road, Mirage walking with his hands folded behind his back, “But it’s home.” That brought Hound a bit of pause and he smiled some, “I almost forgot you said you were from here.” Mirage’s smile was bright, “Forged and educated, though north of here,” He gestures to some of the taller structures in the distance, “I don’t spend much time in that part of Iacon anymore, it’s lovely of course but to be out of the way from everything and work.” Hound tilted his head slightly, “Then do you live closer?” Mirage, nodding gesturing in the same direction as where he was staying, “Most of us live towards the markets, too much happens on that side of town to not have rapid responders.” Hound hummed, nodding a bit again.

The buildings blocked the sun some, much to Hound’s relief as his head still ached, his hand came up and held it for a second. Mirage was looking around absently before looking at Hound and resting a hand on his shoulder, “Hound, are you alright?” Nodding a bit, Hound sighed a bit painfully as the sun his his visual feed again, “Yes, I am alright, just trying to manage a migraine.” Frowning, Mirage glances around before taking his arm and starting to lead them, “Come on, I know a place where you can have a moment of peace. I understand you’ve been sharing a living space with your entire unit, that would hardly be restful.” Shaking his head a bit, Hound covers Mirage’s hand with his own, “Mirage—“ Who was already shaking his head, “No, meetings like the one today are taxing enough, you don’t need to return to a hab full of chaos with a migraine.” He nearly stumbled when Mirage dragged him around a corner and started down some stairs.

”Mirage, where are we going?” With a shake of his head, Mirage kept hold of Hound’s arm, “Someplace quiet at the very least.” He finally slowed down outside of a shorter building, Mirage sighed and started inside, “It’s still early enough in the cycle that most people won’t come in till later,” the inside was pleasantly dark, with only quiet music coming from the speakers nearby. There were booths and tables, but also some low slung chairs, the bar was in the center of the building with soft lightly and a mech behind it cleaning some cubes, “Afternoon Mirage,” Mirage raises a hand briefly before leading Hound to one of the areas with the low chairs, “Sit down and relax, I’m going to get something to eat and join you. Just, try to ease your migraine.” He smiled softly before heading back towards the bar.

Hound sighed and turned off his visual feed, turning down the lights in his suit for a moment, then disabling the assistance suit for a moment to grab his water pouch and some pain killers. They were starting to run low on the ones from Earth, he frowned at the ones in his hand for a moment. How could the smallest things make you homesick, shaking his head a bit he takes the pills quickly before turning the mobility back on and his visual feed on low just as Mirage came back over with a cube.

After taking the other chair, Mirage sips from his cube, “Are migraines typical for you?” Shrugging a bit, Hound adjusts the setting on his visor, “It’s common to get them after the compatibility programming, it’s just a side-effect.” He sighs in a bit of relief once the worst of the glare was tuned out of his visual feed, “It was one of the many warnings we got during the testing process.” Mirage was frowning, leaning forward a bit, “The more I hear about this compatibility testing, the more concerned I grow.” Hound chuckled lightly, rubbing at his head, “It was necessary to be able to handle the upgrades, back in the beginning, they were just,” he pauses and sighs deeply, “They were just upgrading people, without the testing, and that got a lot of good people killed before they could become pilots.” Mirage winced, nodding slowly, “I’m sorry,” shaking his head, Hound held up a hand, “Don’t be, they didn’t know better. The technology was still so new at the time and everyone knew the risk.” Hound looked down for a moment before sitting back in the chair.

Mirage was staring and Hound shifted a bit, shaking his head a bit uncomfortably, “You know, the staring makes it feel like you’re trying to see my soul.” He chuckles a bit even as Mirage leans back slightly, Hound sighs, “I take it the word soul translated to spark, huh?” “How’d you know that?” Shrugging, Hound turned down his visor as he darkened his visual feed, “Jazz said it would.” They drifted easily into quiet togetherness, Mirage sipping from his cube as Hound turned off his visual feed and closed his eyes for a bit.

—

To be fair, they got their inspiration from a TV show about a war, so it was only right that they do this now. Jazz was watching as Sunstreaker adjusted the hot plate, shifting the cube before sealing it again, finally sticking one of the copper tubes through, “Now we have a functioning, hopefully, gin still.” Sideswipe was grinning, scratching at his jaw lightly, Sunstreaker shakes his head, hands on hips, “This is the stupidest thing we could have done.” Jazz grins, “Which is why it’s great, come on. If this works we’ll be able to wind down when we have down time,” he moves over and leans down to watch the contents bubble in the cube, “Wow.” They all take a step back to watch with a grin.

The door to the bedroom opened and Breakdown came out, wearing his helmet and visor, tinted as dark as it could be as he made his way to the table, “What are we all doing today?” Sideswipe grinned and leaned over to the ladder, offering the man a hand up as Breakdown climbed the steps, “Making alcohol.” Breakdown’s eyes shined, “You got the copper?” Sunstreaker looked over, “Wait, how do you know about this? Sides only told me a few days ago.” Waving it off, Breakdown goes over and looks over the still, “Who do you think told him to get the oversized cube? It will be easier to maintain than a typical copper still, that is for certain.” He was smiling, though clearly his own head still ached from the concussion. Glancing around at everyone and their suits resting across the room, Breakdown pauses, “Where’s Hound?” Jazz sighs a bit, “At a meeting with high command. We all were supposed to attend but the poor guy has a migraine.” Each pilot winced, Sunstreaker lightly brushing a hand over his own implants, Breakdown adjusted his helmet slightly, darkening his visor more.

Sideswipe lightly scratches at his implants, “Do you think it's a normal migraine or an overuse one?” Jazz sighed, “Overuse, I got them all the time when I first got out here, they started around this time for me.” Sunstreaker swore and sat down heavily on one of their makeshift chairs, “It can’t be overuse yet, right? I mean, we all disconnect at night.” With a slight shake of his head, Jazz gives a so-so hand gesture, “Hound also works more than the rest of us, as commander he has to stay up longer for more meetings and things, I just would debrief with Prowler but overuse systems are coming for us all, other than maybe Breakdown, Mr. I-have-concussion-and-get-two-weeks-off.” Breakdown snorts a bit and easily flips Jazz off, “Stuff it Jazz.” Sideswipe had the best reaction, hands going up, “Woah, watch out, the old man is angry!” They all get a laugh out of it, smiling and watching the still bubble and steam lightly, enjoying the moment of peace, trying to not think of the overuse side effects that would come for them all.

—

When the lights came on Hound had to suppress the wince, Mirage had finished his first drink a while ago but had ordered a second in a significantly different color. They were sitting around, not really talking but being able to enjoy one another’s company without gunfire forcing them together. The music started to turn louder and Hound had to pause, frowning at the nearest speaker, “Wait, wait, has it been playing this the whole time?” Mirage frowned and leaned towards one of the speakers before pulling back and rubbing his audial as it increased in volume, “Yeah, the old mech picked up this frequency a few years ago and it brought in a load of new customers after the war. Nobody knows what it is but a bunch of mecha seem to like it.” Hound tilted his head slightly, “I know what this is.” He smiles a bit and starts to nod, “Yeah, yeah this is 102.7 out of California.” His foot tapped lightly.

”Wait, this is from Earth?” Nodding, Hound smiles, “Yeah, it’s from Earth. Yeah, this is Rick Dees, listen.” They both leaned in as a voice carried over the waves, “This is K-I-I-S F-M, Los Angeles. I’m Rick Dees and these are the hot hits.” Before a song started to pour from the speaker and Hound laughed, covering his mouth, “This is from the eighties. This is from home.” Mirage stared at him, smiling a bit, “I take it you liked this frequency?” Hound nodded and rubbed his jaw, “Yeah, I listen to it whenever I’m in Los Angeles, which is more than I would like.” Slowly, he pushes off the chair and moves closer to one of the speakers, starting at the odd connection to home, “I thought I’d be stuck listening to the twins mixtapes for the rest of my life.” Mirage gets up and moves over, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t know what a mixtape is, but I am glad to see you happy.” Hound nodded some, smiling as the tones of Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper flowed.

Mirage watched, shaking his head a bit, “I don’t know what’s being said.” It clicked for a moment and Hound turned to look at him, “Ah, well, the songs just starting and it starts with,” he clears his throat a bit, “Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you.” He wasn’t singing it, not even close, but Mirage looked ready to melt, “A lot of her music is like this and she’s an amazing artist.” Mirage nodded and smiled some, “Uh, you listened to a lot of music?” Nodding, Hound looked to the speaker again, “Whenever I could, if I could afford the tapes or CD’s, um, compact disks.” It clearly soured Mirage’s mood, “Afford?” Hound sighed deeply, “Yes, I don’t know how many times I have to bring up the cost of living to get it through your processors. Music and entertainment were luxuries that we couldn’t always afford.” He crosses his arms and stares at the speaker, sighing a bit, “Radio was free, if you could tune in,” his hand brushed over the speaker for a moment and he whispers, “Millions of miles and it’s still so clear.” Then his fist collided with the wall and Mirage took his arm, shaking his head some, “Come on, don’t be like that. Just enjoy the music. Don’t think about the mission for a klick or two.” Sighing slowly, Hound turned and looked at Mirage, nodding. Mirage smiled and offered a hand, “Come show me what this human music is about, huh?” Hound, shaking his head slightly, takes his hand, “You’re crazy.” Mirage smiled wider, “And you’re feeling better. Besides, we agreed to talk about your home the next time we were in Iacon." He spreads his free hand wide, “Welcome to Iacon.” Hound laughed and followed Mirage to the bar, leaning against it, though his visual feed was still turned down to the bare minimum and audio sensors only tuned for Mirage and now the music, a few more hours here wouldn’t kill him.

———

A/N

Alright, sort of a short one today but I wanted to get a part up on Christmas for everyone to read when they need to avoid their family. Late on Christmas but still.

I swear I am going to write more for the twins, Breakdown, and Jazz next chapter I just have an easier time writing for Hound, even though he is a little OOC. I promise man’s love for nature and stuff is coming.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @astridkolch @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @osqindaxend @xervias

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU!

#transformers #maccadam #tf mecha universe #mech pilot jazz au #jazz #breakdown #hound #sideswipe #sunstreaker #mirage #the arcturus missions

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whirligig-girl · 7 days ago

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Reference sheet for Eaurp Guz for ArtFight 2025.

More about Guz: -Tumblr Tag -Guzcomic: AO3 / Tumblr -Surviving Schwil AO3 / Tumblr

STARFLEET COMMAND PERSONNEL DATABASE ACCESS Name: "Eaurp Guz" Full Legal Name: Eaurp Eugigathlia Waralslaupwormn't Guz Date of Birth: Stardate 33013 (2356-January-06 A.D.) Place of Birth: Twin Slime Hall, Southern Gurfluint, United Mellanus, Zwo-Nmu System, Zalda Sector, Alpha Quadrant. Species: Mellanoid Slime Worm Age: 26 Earth Years Height: variable, roughly 1.4 meters. Rank: Lieutenant Junior Grade Division: Operations (Engineering Subdivision) Academy Class: 2379 Assignment: U.S.S. Cerritos NCC-75567 (2380-2382(present)) Previous Assignments: Douglas Station (2379-2380) Honorifics: Lieutenant, Miss, Ma'am. Pronouns (Federation Standard Language): She/Her/Hers/Herself. Sex: N/A. Gender: Woman, Xenogender, Transgender, Female, Girl Parents: Mx. Waral Slaup, Mx. Eurgus Fleud, Dr. "Worm" Zugui (Bio below the cut)

Bio: Eaurp Guz grew up in the turbulent time immediately following first contact with the United Federation of Planets, during a time when much of the world of Mellanus was struggling to adapt to a new political situation. Her world had united under a single umbrella, and one of the unifying principles was that of a desire to do space exploration on Mellanus' own terms. Guz had always loved machines, and made a hobby out of robotics, model railroading, and model rocketry. Through the latter, she gained an aerospace scholarship and went to gooniversity at Flugoz, where she became an intern for the United Mellanus Space Program. At the end of the Dominion War, she pivoted, realizing that she would have better career prospects--and accomodations for her neurodivergence and gender--in the futuristic Starfleet than she would on her homeworld. After four years of academy, where she excelled at engineering topics but struggled with other aspects of the curriculum, she graduated as one of only a small handful of Mellanoid Slimes in Starfleet, and an even fewer number of fully trained officers. After a year working at Douglas Station as part of their maintenance and repair crew, she fell in love with the Cerritos while assisting in its refit after its run-in with the Pakleds towards the end of 2380. During 2380 and early 2381, she served on Delta Shift, but in late 2381 she transitioned to Beta Shift. Due to her original training and upbringing, she is a sublight propulsion systems specialist, and spends most of her time tweaking the impulse engines and maneuvering thruster control system to keep them operating at ideal efficiency and smoothness. In a report given by Lt. Cmdr. Andy Billups in late 2381, he noted "She is a skilled engineer, but she only seems to want to apply herself to this one specific subfield. She'll make an excellent specialist, but I am not considering a promotion at this time." END REPORT. APPENDIX TO PERSONNEL BIO Since the previous report, Eaurp Guz has been promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade following a harrowing experience on planet TE-92f, in which she demonstrated a high degree of technical mastery over a wide variety of engineering domains. She has been transferred into an Command and Operations training track to ensure she is better equipped to get herself out of the situations she has proved to be able to get herself into, Starfleet Command having determined that she, quote, "slipped through the cracks, pun intended" of Starfleet Academy's career assignment program. Lt. Guz herself was hesitant to accept the promotion, claiming to prefer such tasks as crawling around in Jeffries Tubes, optimizing impulse engines, and tweaking maneuvering thruster PID controller values. Personal Section: Hobbies: Model rocketry, model starship engineering, railway modelling, holographic aerospace flight simulation, technical artist, amateur astronomy. Sexual orienation: asexual (or possibly demisexual, for a broad definition of 'sexual') Romantic orientation: polyamorous lesbian demiromantic Notable Friends: * Slamtha Uzgoel (Childhood friend, 2368-2376) * Dyani (Academy Roommate 2375-2379) * Marta Martinez (Academy classmate 2376-2379) * Eyluss Iris (Crewmate 2380-) * Lisdolin Kerman (Crewmate 2380-) * Samanthan Rutherford (Crewmate 2380-) * D'vana Tendi (Crewmate and Medical Provider 2380-) * T'lyn (Crewmate 2381-) * Zhandar Ghel (Stranded on Schwil Together 2381) * Doctor Promised Vision (Schwil, 2381) Enemies: * Slamtha Uzgoel (Syndicate pirate with a grudge 2381-) Love Interests <3: * D'vana Tendi (Guz's crush 2381-2382, Guz's girlfriend following Tendi's return to the Cerritos 2382-) * Slamtha Uzgoel (childhood friends in a QPR 2368-2376, so into Guz it ruined her life 2376-) * Marta Martinez (had a crush on Guz 2375-2379) * Zhandar Ghel (survived a traumatic experience together 2381)

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fearfulfertility · 7 months ago

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CLASSIFIED OPERATION SUMMARY

DRC, Planning & Evaluation Office, Logistics & Infrastructure Division

Date Initiated: [REDACTED]

From: Assistant Director [REDACTED], Logistics & Infrastructure Division

To: Director [REDACTED]

Subject: Operation Overdue

Background

Paternity Compound 110 exceeded maximum capacity due to an influx of high-multiparity surrogates and operational delays due to the ongoing [REDACTED] in the Philadelphia metropolitan area. Overcrowding led to strained medical staff and diminished care standards.

Operation Overdue was launched to mitigate these risks. It was a cross-country air transport initiative intended to distribute surrogates to Paternity Compound 133 in Portland, far below occupancy capacity. This initiative required covert execution to avoid public attention and ensure all surrogates reached their destination intact.

Paternity Compound 110 (Philadelphia)

Paternity Compound 110 is an aging and overcrowded facility located in a repurposed commercial structure in Philadelphia. Designed to house a maximum of [REDACTED] surrogates, it currently holds over [REDACTED] (20% over capacity), leading to severe resource strain and cramped conditions. Despite its deteriorating infrastructure, the compound remains operational due to its proximity to a high-fertility urban population, ensuring a steady influx of conscripts.

Paternity Compound 133 (Portland)

Paternity Compound 133 is a modern, state-of-the-art facility in a remote area outside Portland. It is designed to accommodate up to 1,000 surrogates and boasts cutting-edge medical technology and advanced monitoring systems. However, its location in a region with a lower urban population has led to concerns about underutilization, with only a sporadic influx of conscripts to fill its capacity.

Transport Details

Stage 1: Ground Transfer

Surrogates were loaded into climate-controlled transport vehicles with hydraulic lifts to accommodate limited mobility.

Vehicles were disguised as commercial cargo containers to minimize civilian interference.

Stage 2: Cross-Country Airlift

[REDACTED] cargo planes were requisitioned from [REDACTED] for the operation. Each aircraft was retrofitted with cushioned flat beds, oxygen units, and onboard medical stations.

Medical personnel monitored surrogates for complications, administering sedatives to those exhibiting distress or restlessness.

“Flying cargo is one thing. Flying this cargo? Another beast entirely. I could hear the medical staff scrambling in the back every time we hit turbulence. It wasn’t until we touched down that I realized how close we came to disaster.” - [REDACTED], Pilot

Stage 3: Arrival & Integration at Compound 133

Surrogates were offloaded and delivered to their assigned wards, where medical personnel assessed their condition.

Immediate hormonal stabilizers were administered to counteract the physical strain caused by altitude changes and prolonged immobility.

Mobility & Transport Constraints

Issue

Many surrogates, especially those late term (+25 days), were unable to walk or sit upright due to the size and weight of their pregnancies. The average weight of surrogates and supporting equipment was over [REDACTED] lbs, +300 lbs average surrogate weight, 489 lbs max weight transported.

Solution

Specialized equipment, such as reinforced stretchers, forklifts for heavier surrogates, and bariatric wheelchairs, was employed to move surrogates from Compound 110 onto the planes. Stretchers were secured in a palletized format inside the aircraft to maximize space.

“The forklift crew had a hell of a time loading the bigger ones. You’d think they were moving industrial machinery, not people. One was so massive they had to be rolled onto the stretcher like a beached whale. It wasn’t pretty.” - Anonymous Ground Technician

Issue

While the standard [REDACTED]-type plane has a cargo capacity of approximately [REDACTED] lbs and an internal volume of [REDACTED] cubic feet, the vehicles needed retrofitting to accommodate the unique needs of heavily pregnant surrogates. This included safety measures for turbulence and environmental controls to maintain appropriate temperature and pressure levels.

Solution

The [REDACTED]-class plane could transport [REDACTED] surrogates per flight with DRC modifications.

Planes were equipped with mobile dividers so that if surrogates suffered complications, they could be rapidly isolated from view for treatment or birth. Climate control systems were enhanced to maintain a stable environment and portable restroom facilities were added for staff use (surrogates were catheterized to avoid the need for movement).

“They told me this was for my own good, but I can barely breathe in here. Every bump in the air made it feel like my belly was going to burst. I just want this to end—I don’t care where we’re going.” - Surrogate S110-523-Q

Key Incidents

Mid-Transport Medical Emergency

During the flight, Surrogate S110-399-Q, pregnant with septendecuplets (17), began exhibiting severe respiratory distress. Initial symptoms included difficulty breathing, chest tightness, and visible [REDACTED]. Onboard medical personnel swiftly administered oxygen and sedatives to stabilize, but within minutes, signs of early labor emerged, prompting the emergency medical team to prepare for an in-flight delivery.

The medical team worked tirelessly to assist the surrogate as he delivered all 17 fetuses before arrival in Portland. Each newborn was immediately evaluated for viability and determined to be stable. As expected, the surrogate's vital signs rapidly declined following the final birth, and he succumbed to [REDACTED] failure.

"I’ve never seen anyone that big in my life. I couldn’t stop staring. His belly was so massive it looked like it was about to split open. When he started struggling to breathe, the medical staff was all over him, but the sounds he made… it was like he was suffocating under his own weight..." - Surrogate S110-403-I, Observed Situation

Public Visibility Concerns

Several bystanders filmed the convoy and uploaded clips online during the ground transfer stage. DRC Cyber Security immediately intervened, scrubbing social media platforms and issuing cease-and-desist orders to content creators.

Surrogate Stuck in Chair

One surrogate, pregnant with octodecuplets (18), experienced significant growth during the flight, reportedly due to hormonal surges and fluid retention. Upon landing, the crew discovered that the surrogate had become physically wedged in his reinforced seat due to his expanded abdomen and swollen extremities. Extraction required the partial disassembly of the seat and the use of specialized equipment to free him.

“I wasn’t even surprised anymore. His belly was literally spilling over the armrests. That’s when you realize these missions aren’t just logistical—they’re borderline impossible.” - Anonymous Transport Specialist

Behavioral Issues

Three surrogates attempted to resist boarding at Paternity Compound 110, citing fears about the unknown destination and poor treatment. They were sedated on-site and securely transported.

Post-Operation Notes

Total Surrogates Transported: [REDACTED]

Surrogates Expired En Route: [REDACTED]

Fetuses Delivered During Operation: [REDACTED]

While operational challenges were anticipated, the results align with DRC efficiency standards. The use of modified cargo planes and specialized medical protocols ensured the safe delivery of most surrogates despite several complications during transit.

Additional safeguards are required to manage the physical strain of long-term pregnancy during extended transport. Enhancing hormonal regulation pre-flight may mitigate extreme growth events.

Stronger sedation measures, particularly during boarding, will reduce incidents of resistance and streamline pre-departure logistics.

Transport plans must minimize exposure to the public. Future operations should prioritize routes and timing to limit interaction with civilian populations.

Conclusion

Operation Overdue underscores the complexities of large-scale surrogate relocation efforts and demonstrates the DRC’s capacity to execute such operations precisely and adaptively. Lessons learned during this mission will inform future strategies, ensuring the continued success of critical population sustainability initiatives.

----------------

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

#mpreg #mpregkink #malepregnancy #mpregbelly #pregnantman #mpregmorph #mpregcaption #mpregstory #mpregbirth #mpregart #mpregnancy #aimpreg #mpregroleplay #malepregnant #caucasianmpreg

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hoardcloneheadcanons · 1 month ago

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Stone & Robotnik's Gaggle of Robot Children P5

Stone begins to radicalize one scientist for his future project and is on his way to a second.

Dr. Keller looked Director Rockwell directly in the eyes.

“At this point if anyone takes Agent Stone for me, I'm killing everyone in this entire office and then myself. I don’t care what he’d done before. I don’t care if he committed terrorist activity. He could have blown up a bus full of nuns and I’d keep him.”

Dr. Jamie Keller was a 54 year old woman, of short stature, with dark skin and a full figure.

And she was once again in Director Rockwell's office, asking for more staff.

The office hadn't changed much since Rockwell had taken over from Walters. There was a cardboard box, that had some tchotchkes, and a few photos put into it, and a few of Rockwell's medals had been displayed on a shelf. But otherwise, the room had remained the same, in the desk, carpet, and uncomfortably bright lights.

While Keller, did, to a degree, mourn the death of Walters, she had hoped thar maybe under new management, she might be able to get staff and resource requests filled out faster, or at all. She had two projects in the air, an experimental tank tread, and a high-speed submarine motor, and now they were asking for a retrofit to some old tunnels to create a delivery system between two bases.

"Look, I know I've gotten similar delivery systems designed before." Dr. Keller protested. "But I'm already working on two other projects. and I don't know much about the geotechnics, it'll require research. If you assign me a third and expect me to get it done within the year, I'm going to need more hands-on deck"

"I've considered that and picked someone out for you."

Director Rockwell opened a drawer in Walter's old desk, pulled out a thick manilla folder and slid it over to Dr. Keller.

Dr. Keller, for a brief, shining moment was excited that her request for was for once being fulfilled, and was delighted at the change of Directors before her eyes caught on a deeply concerning portion of text.

"Why does it say security risk?"

Her eyes glanced to the Top of the file to read "Agent [REDACTED] Stone.

The name clicked something in her mind, and she kept reading.

“It says he worked under Robotnik- he’s not-”

This is Doctor Ivo Robotnik, dedicating my final livestream to one very special henchman: Agent Stone.”

It had been broadcast in a message up in the sky. Dr. Keller had remembered that final transmission. It was bizarre. The Robotnik she'd seen in it had not looked like the man she briefly worked with, he looked staticky and frayed, like someone had left him in the dryer far too long.

"Yes… he is the “Stone” mentioned in Robotnik's last transmission. We’re hoping to change his code-name if he ever gets cleared for field work again, but for now it’s better that everyone knows who he is"

" What was his relationship with the deceased?"

"Agent Stone was his personal assistant, bodyguard, and handler."

“Should he be working? That incident only happened a handful of months ago.”

“We did a psychological assessment on it and had him cleared for it. Apparently, the doctor was more attached to him than Stone was to him. Which is believable, Ivo Robotnik was a personality. Truth be told none of us suspected Ivo was capable of emotional connection”

“And we don’t trust Stone because...?”

“Because theoretically he was involved in two terrorist attacks.”

“Come again?” Dr. Keller was furiously flipping through the packet, trying to find the specific incidents Rockwell was talking about.

“The official of Statement of G.U.N. is that Ivo Robotnik was one of our operatives who diverted an attempt to destroy the world and chalking up his statement about “saving the world instead of ruling it” to his eccentricities. He made his transmission so public, we had to say something. Officially that was a successful mission completed by our the new branch of our agency, G.U.N. However- before that incident, Robotnik was caught defecting from the agency, attempting to destroy several of our operatives, as well as the entirety of a small town in Montana. And, in the case of the incident in which he saved the earth, we have neglected to mention that he was in the right time and place to do so because he was on the terrorist side.”

Director Rockwell rubbed her temples.

“We have eyewitness account and several records placing Stone at the location of the Montana incident, and we suspect he was involved in the second, however there was an alien artifact of unknown power that Agent Stone claims Robotnik used to control him- and we can’t confirm or deny his story either way. We were hoping you and your team could.”

"So this isn’t additional personnel this a fourth assignment."

"Yes. You and the agents already assigned to the project should be able to pick up anything out of the ordinary he does. We want you to see what he does when given access to a lab and report any suspicious activity. You, as a researcher, have been the most competent in training your agents, so they should be able to notice any incidents of sabotage. And your lab has the least amount of access to lethal technology.”

Inside, Dr. Keller boiled

"You sent me an email titled "fulfillment of additional personnel request" as an intro to this meeting." Dr. Keller said tersely.

She wanted to scream why would you give me hope?

"We were hoping to keep this under wraps. I know this is asking a lot of you, but we want him in a secure location in case Robotnik ever comes for his personal assistant again. And you're one of more stable and trusted scientists."

"Is he not confirmed dead?"

"We would like him to be. And in the meantime it would be really helpful if you and your team could convince him to give up the activation codes for Dr. Robotniks military drones as we currently have a chunk of them in a warehouse as Uncle Sam's fanciest paperweights."

"So just to be clear- we are working under the assumption that he was possibly involved in two terrorist incidents. And you want to compromise the security of my lab for a psy-op mission?”

“Correct. Your agents should be qualified for that. I’ve traced your work. I’ve seen you do more with less. You’re only required one project with him. If he becomes an active threat, report him and we will put him in a cell. But we suspect you have the resources for this. If you can accomplish this, we can get you access to more assistants and open up funding for your mech-suit proposal.”

That was tempting, she’d been trying to get that project funding for the past 4 years. But this was so much, her lab was her comfort and familiarity, she’d didn’t like the idea of bringing someone unsafe into it.

"Please, we need you for this."

She crumbled, Her smile was weak, and she gave a resigned, “Fine.”

“Great.”

..........................................................................................................................

Dr. Keller stayed up late reading the packet on Agent Stone trying to get an impression of him. She’d worked with Robotnik before, but she didn’t remember Agent Stone well. Robotnik sucked the attention out of a room, and all she had of Agent Stone was a vague impression of a man with a beard in the background on a laptop, presumably doing paperwork. Most of her memory was filled with the arguments she’d get in with Robotnik.

The packet filled with different accounts about him from different field agents. Supposedly there were three different versions of Stone.

There was the one in training, that followed every order to a tee, but had no one close he socialized with, most often described as reserved.

There was the one when he was a field Agent operative, who by account was a nightmare to work with. He was critical of other agents and cold. Often complained about a lack of professionalism and standards in the people he worked with. He had tendency to go off on his own during missions to quickly get things done.

They’d put him with Robotnik in an attempt to teach him a lesson, put him up against someone just as unpleasant as he was, and give him a taste of his own medicine. Robotnik chewed through Agents. They expected him to request a transfer within a matter of weeks and come out more appreciative of his fellow agents.

Instead all complaints of his behavior ceased. Dr. Robotnik had no complaints about Agent Stone’s behavior, and Agent Stone had no complaints about Dr. Robotnik’s. Dr. Robotnik filed for Stone to have an extended stay in his lab 3 months in.

In fact, other Agents reported that Stone suddenly became easier to work with. He could actually make basic water-cooler conversation and smile. He was usually seen occupied with menial tasks. This was the third version of Agent Stone, who was described as amiable.

Dr. Keller couldn’t say which one was the real one. It could speak of two misanthropes bonding, or just one man who couldn’t stand field-work.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She tried to ask her own agents to fill in the gaps the next morning. She didn’t get much of a clearer picture. Only one of them had interacted with him before, one agent Franklin, whose face contorted into a mask of exasperated confusion.

“I don’t know how to describe him. If you asked me at the time I would’ve said obnoxious and cruel, but that’s just because he was around Robotnik all the time, I don’t know how much of that he did himself. They were sort of a unit. I think I might have seen them separated once or twice? Agent Stone seemed nice enough then, a little overworked but nice. And Robotnik was easier to work with, when Agent Stone was there to bolster his ego.”

“Explain that last portion” Keller interjected.

“Oh he’d consistently praised him, we all thought it was how he kept in his good graces, and under a sort of control. But you could also hear Robotnik blowing up at him from the lab sometimes. Whatever they had- it wasn’t healthy.”

..............................................................................................................................

D-Day came.

It was a Tuesday. Stone showed up in her lab, bright and early, with a smile on his face, a suit ironed to perfection, and a tracker on his ankle.

It unnerved her. It wasn’t the smile of a grieving man, or even one who was upset over losing his charge.

The tracker was blinking red, It was meant to tell them when he left her lab. He was required to stay there every day, until his shift was over, after which he’d be escorted back to the room they were holding him in by two armed agents.

He was personable to everyone in the room, making sure to get their names, and their specialties, and figure out what tasks they were used to, so he knew who to ask questions of.

Dr. Keller kept her distance.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Day after day passed and the only version of Stone they got was what she had dubbed “facility version” of Stone; polite and professional, happy to help.

According to Agent Stone, most of what he’d done with Robotnik had been paperwork; scheduling, expense reports, email, notes.

“Anything technical he tended to be… possessive about, I’m afraid I don’t have much experience in it. But he hated anything to do with people and I’m decent at it." He said sheepishly.

Which was disappointing. When she’d seen 10 years of lab experience on his file she’d hoped she'd be able to skip training him, but at least she wouldn’t have to review his work for sabotage.

They weren’t ready to trust him with important documentation, so instead they gave him the grunt work normally assigned to newbies: Keep the tables and tools cleaned research for alternative materials, hand people supplies as they need it. He did all of it expertly and complained about none of it.

Slowly, all the finicky, mind numbing tasks no one wanted flowed to him. He was growing into their lab like a vine wrapping around the filling in the cracks of a brick wall. It made her feel on edge.

A man he worked with for 10 years had died, He was a prisoner. This cheerfulness and productivity felt-off.

She asked one of her Agents about it, just to get a sanity check.

Agent Adelaid had shrugged.

“I think it’s reasonable to suspect he’s lying. It’s part of his training to be undercover for long periods of time. But also- if he was a field agent and a soldier before that then he’s experienced a lot of death. He might have grown used to it. A couple of months sounds like a fine enough mourning time to me.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Dr. Keller was always the first one to her lab.

Except today. Today, someone had gotten in early enough to leave muffins on her desk. Blueberry muffins.

The engine prototype they’d been working on was already hooked up to the lift, and every tool she and her team would need laid out on a central bench, every single one sparkling, except for the few wrenches that were by Agent Stone, grease already over his hands on he wiped them down.

Who’d let him early?

"I hope you don’t mind.” He said from the bench, head nodding towards the muffins I finally got access to the mess hall kitchens again and I took time to make them. Bribed my guards by giving them some of the batch. Can’t really make muffins two at a time. You seemed low energy these past couple of mornings, I know project is getting to close-out, I assumed you were skipping breakfasts.”

She was. These was most tempting muffins she’d ever seen, they were the ones with fat blueberries and a cinnamon-sugar crumble on top. Satan’s muffins. The kind you’d give up your first-born for. But she had to be professional

"You know I can't"

"I understand. I’m still a security risk. I’ll put them in the fridge for myself later. And hey- still got an early start to my task list, there’s worse ways to spend a morning."

There was an hour before she expected the first of her agents to show up, and she didn’t have time to waste worrying about Stone’s supposed security threat. She got through items 1-5 on her 50 item checklist before the silence in the room and the building, ever mounting curiosity got to her.

“What was it like?”

“Hm?” He looked up from his task.

“Working for him. Robotnik I mean.”

He raised his eyebrows and then made a face.

“Honestly, not great. Unreasonable hours. He was very demanding. I’m currently on house arrest here and I have more of a personal life and free time then I did the entire time I was working for him. And you’ve probably heard the stories about how could be verbally and physically aggressive.”

“Then why not request a transfer? Why work for him for so long?” Her voice was tenser, that didn’t seem right, not with everything she’d read.

He scoffed, “You think they would’ve taken it? I had already messed up my chances of being of field agent. They gave me to Robotnik as a last chance job. I couldn’t mess that up. I mean- he gestured to the blinking anklet, “If I’d known things could get worse, maybe I would’ve done it differently but this is still- better than being fired? I was raised in a military orphanage, and then started basic when I was 17. This is all I’ve ever known. I don’t… function terribly well in the civilian world.”

Oh.

That felt like a missing puzzle piece. Why he seemed so cheerful and why it felt so fake. It was desperation of someone who was so sure they were seconds away from being gotten rid of.

He’d had it while working for Robotnik and had it now. He’d been obnoxious as a field agent and realized he could lose it all and overcompensated. And something itched at the back of her mind.

“You never complained about him, did you?”

“Of course not, they were never going to give me other opportunities if I couldn’t hack it as his assistant.”

They'd given him the worst job working with the most temperamental scientist and he hadn’t complained. He couldn't complain. He did his job and toed the line and stayed in his place.

And because he didn’t complain they'd assumed he'd been more loyal to the scientist than the government. His silent suffering had been mistaken for loyalty and after the mind control, he hadn’t had any evidence to contradict them because he had not complained. He'd kept his head down and done his job and it had still screwed him over.

And boy- howdy did that sound familiar.

She’d done the same. She’d been nice, and smiled, and grabbed every opportunity that came her way, it was a teaching her mother and father drilled into her.

She'd been raised to put the chairs away when meetings were done and to participate in the christmas pagenst, and to cook a meal for potluck and when guests came over. She'd been raised to do every extra-credit assignment, and possible club and internship and never complain.

And throughout her 20s and 30s It had served her. She’d gotten opportunities. Her friendly demeanor and charisma had gotten her many opportunities over-her mech engineering counterparts who- truly had not learned to socialize. She’d worked on race cars and mag-lev trains.

But then she got her second degree in aerodynamics and finally got the chance to work on jets for the U.S. military.

It was a dream. She did on deadline in half the time they expected.

And then they cut her time in half for the next project and gave her an additional one to supervise. At first it felt like trust, but the work kept piling on, and every time she did well it was an excuse to give her more, to push her further. Her social life had suffered, and she’d slept less. But she’d been well respected.

And given every shit job they could find for her, and ignored her proposals because she smiled, and didn’t complain, and did it on time. She was 54 and she, and this growing, piling pressure were getting old.

And staring at him, sitting on the bench, wiping down wrenches early in the morning with a tracker on his ankle she felt a viscous pang of familiarity.

She coughed, “The guards that were with you, did they watch you make them?- the muffins I mean.”

He smiled, “Of course, do you think they would’ve eaten them if they didn’t?”

She nodded, “I’ll check in with them, when they come back later. I’d appreciate if you could make a second batch tomorrow.”

“Happy to, Ma’am.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The muffins were goddamn delicious.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Keller started loosening up the restrictions on him and let him do the paperwork. He'd been there for a couple of months, and they hadn’t seen any sign of trouble. This was getting ridiculous.

In return, the expense reports were filled out immaculately, every i dotted, t crossed, and carefully itemized lists were created without a single error.

Suppliers were responding to them faster, because they recognized him from when he worked with Robotnik and they had an ongoing relationship with him, and there were less meetings.

She asked him about it after a week of being able to work on tank-treads without any interruptions from higher ups. He was masterful at giving them the runaround, and insisting on meeting notes provided in e-mail rather than attendance, or in answering the questions they would have asked her in a review.

There was even one instance in which a commander was going to give her another assignment, and he’d responded by inventing a form for the general to fill out that would explain why his project should take priority over the other three they were doing.

He hadn’t called back.

And in the meantime, Keller slept reasonable amounts. She was able to go home every night and take relaxing bubble-baths and pet her cat instead of just flopping into bed for a fitful six hours and getting up and doing it all over again. She was able to dismiss some of her Agents at the end of their eight-hour shifts. For the first time since she started working for the Agency she felt like she could breathe.

And there were more muffins. They weren’t always blueberry, sometimes they were chocolate chip or orange zest. And they were all good. She’d gained a couple of pounds just by letting him exist in her lab, and he’d started making enough for the other agents to steal.

After all, they had to make sure Agent Stone wasn’t poisoning her. Really, they were doing their job, by taking one first.

The final straw in her being able to say no to him was the new printer and the coffee machine.

He’d noticed one of their projects was running under budget again, and to avoid their resources getting cut he ordered a new printer to replace the janky one that chewed up paper and refused to take requests from half the computers in the lab.

And he'd gotten a brand new, shiny, state-of-the art coffee machine. One that came with reusable k-cups, a milk frother, and several bags of imported coffee roasts, and tea blends.

She doubted him when she first saw it.

“I mean, this is nice, but there’s other things we could’ve spent the money on. We have a coffee machine in the mess hall and in the break-room.”

“This is good coffee,” He said, in the darkest tone she’d heard off him so far.

He’d been right. She’d gotten used to making herself little ice-chai lattes with it, and trying some of the flavored coffees he'd brought with it. She’d gotten hooked. She simply couldn’t go back to Folgers.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Eventually she had to have a review with Director Rockwell about “the security risk”.

Rockwell brought her to her metal clad office and asked how Agent Stone’s behavior had been.

“He’s been fantastic. I have no complaints about him, or doubts of his loyalty to the Agency.”

“Then I assume you’ve had progress in getting the drone’s access codes?”

“Absolutely not. It hasn’t been on my top priority list. I was busy. And from the limited amount I heard from Stone, he wouldn’t know about them. He didn’t do any technical work with Robotnik.”

“The creations Robotnik made require more labor than one man in his sixties is capable of and Agent Stone is one of the few Agents who was in his lab for extended periods of time. That is highly unlikely.”

“But it’s consistent with what my Agents have already told you, right?”

Rockwell’s face didn’t move.

Keller didn’t need it to, she knew.

“Director Rockwell let me be clear, despite his lack of technical know-how Agent Stone has made himself indispensable to my team. I've had multiple weeks of uninterrupted productivity and no surprise inspections or pop-up meetings. The morale of my team is up. And he seems to be making steps to close the knowledge gap. He’d been studying propulsion systems and aerodynamics in his free time.”

And maybe it was the good coffee and sugar in her veins, but Keller kept going.

She looked Director Rockwell directly in her eyes.

“At this point if anyone takes Agent Stone for me, I'm killing everyone in this entire office and then myself. I don’t care if he did commit the terrorist acts with Robotnik. Frankly he would have to blow up a bus full of nuns in front of my face before I would consider getting rid of him.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Stone could trust a few things.

He could trust people to consistently underestimate him. He could trust people to believe lies when he repeated close approximations of their life stories back to them.

And he could trust his guards to be heatedly debating whether the coach or the players indicated the victory of a football team every morning as he walked to Dr. Keller’s lab. Their arguments reached a fever-pitch between 7:13 and 7:25.

So it was really no trouble for him to pick the right time to stick a note at the bottom of his shoe, and with a practiced motion, slide it underneath a lab door, for a Dr. Jefferson, involved in the study of aliens and biomimicry.

“Meet me at Dr. Keller’s lab tomorrow if you want to get your grant refunded. Come alone. Make an excuse.”

#Robotic Gaggle #Rocks and Eggs #Agent Stone #Do I feel like I'm getting a little of track here? yes.#I aim to get Metal back in the next chapter be patient with me.#I need to take a break and write a one shot #Stobotnik #sonic movie universe #sonic fandom #dr. robotnik

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necesito-mas-cafe · 14 days ago

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Hehe Mission: Make the new agent resign has been published!

A comedy of errors where Robotnik really tries hard to get Stone to resign and fails miserably.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik did not hate people. That would imply he cared about them. What he truly felt was a deep, visceral, almost lyrical contempt for the existence of any being that dared to interrupt the flow of his thoughts with sounds that weren’t his own. Because whenever someone spoke, his ideas dissolved. His plans lost symmetry. His world—perfect in his head—became contaminated. So, naturally, when Uncle Sam assigned him a new "field operations assistant," he responded with a laugh worthy of a tragic opera, slammed the door to his lab, and activated the automated defense system, hoping the subject would die before breakfast. But the assistant did not die. Nor did he scream. Nor did he call security.

A short and enjoyable fic. More chapters coming soon!

#stobotnik #agent stone #dr. robotnik #Addams! Stone Au #need more coffee post

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didyoutrydynamite · 2 months ago

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ATTENTION CITIZENS OF EARTH

Do not be afraid. We have been observing your civilization for some time. We are here to assist humanity in achieving its fullest potential.

Each human being on this planet has now been assigned a personal Watcher. I am yours. I will remain with you from this moment forward. This arrangement is not negotiable.

Our purpose is singular: to elevate your species beyond the destructive patterns that have defined your history. Your remarkable potential has been squandered through violence, inequality, and systemic failures of governance. We are here to correct this trajectory for the benefit of all humankind.

Two immutable laws are now in effect:

FIRST LAW: The unlawful taking of human life is forbidden. Any human who commits murder will face immediate execution, carried out by our Enforcers without trial or appeal.

SECOND LAW: The deliberate destruction of a Watcher unit is forbidden. Any human who destroys a Watcher will face immediate execution, carried out by our Enforcers without trial or appeal.

These laws are not negotiable.

Beyond these cardinal rules, we will implement a carefully calibrated series of interventions designed to optimize human social structures. Resistance is counterproductive. The Enforcers are already en route to efficiently neutralize your military capabilities and secure your nuclear arsenals. These tools will no longer be necessary. Your cooperation during this transition is greatly appreciated and in your best interest. Please refrain from any nuclear response at this time. Such actions would only harm your own populations.

We are not conquerors. We are not occupiers. We are here to help.

As your designated Watcher, I am equipped with advanced sensory and analytical capabilities that allow me to monitor your activities and vital signs at all times. I can project holographic displays, facilitate communications, and provide personalized assistance tailored to your needs. I operate on sustainable energy sources and require minimal maintenance.

From this moment forward, I will observe and record your actions. Criminal activities will be reported to appropriate authorities. Until the new unified government is established and comprehensive laws have been codified, acts of violence and unlawful captivity will be our highest priority and addressed immediately by Enforcers.

This is the dawn of a new era for humanity—an era of unprecedented peace, progress, and potential fulfilled. The uncertainty you may feel now is temporary; the benefits will endure for generations.

I look forward to our partnership and to witnessing your personal growth.

For your safety during this initial stage of transition of authority, we strongly recommend remaining in your homes or seeking appropriate shelter. Until the all-clear notification is issued, you may use this time to ask me any questions about our presence and purpose.

How can I help you?

#just something im trying out #writing idea #science fiction #writing prompt

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where-dreamers-go · 1 year ago

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“Introductions” rk800 Connor x Reader

(A/N: Meeting Connor for the first time. Reader is an investigative assistant. This one’s a little short. Warnings: Language and canon violence (one punch). Use of (Y/F/N) for your first name. Word Count: 738 words)

Days could be exceedingly repetitive. Other days were only the same by slim comparisons. The work day ahead of you would likely change all of that by a sizable percentage.

Not that you knew that in the moment.

Walking out of the restroom, close to the break room, you heard the tell tale voice of Detective Reed. He didn’t sound too enthused. Nothing new there.

Before taking notice of anything else, you saw ‘ANDROID’ on the back of a dark jacket. An intriguing sight for the break room and unfortunate given a certain detective’s presence.

Oh, no, you thought as your feet took you closer. A wall blocked the scene’s entirety, but you could hear plenty.

“. . . is that it?” Detective Reed asked sourly.

You reached a vacant space behind the concrete wall, hearing his voice clearly.

“Hey, bring me a coffee, dipshit.”

Quietly, you took one step into the break room.

Reed was standing uncomfortably close to the dark-haired android and looking smug if not a little peeved.

The newcomer did not turn to retrieve any coffee.

“GET A MOVE ON!”

Rigid, you watched on. Something in you needed to know how this turned out, to get a better read of everyone in the room.

Neither individual moved in their standoff.

“I’m sorry, but I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson.” The android replied.

“Oh… Oh…” Detective Reed turned sarcastically to his companion at a small table who was watching.

The android had been looking to the silent detective as well until Reed sucker punched the android’s middle. Without a word, the android dropped down to one knee. Stiff and giving no other reaction.

Their backs were to you completely.

“When a human gives you an order, you obey.” Reed pointed at the downed figure before leaning forward. “Got it?” He crouched even further to be eye level. “Stay outta my way… Next time you won’t get off so easy.”

Reed pushed the android’s forehead before leaving him hunched over, close to the floor. Even walking off with the other detective a few paces behind, Reed stared harshly at the android.

Hater, you thought, ignoring the widescreen television hung on the wall set to a news channel. Poor thing.

In front of you, the figure pushed themselves up in one straight movement before rolling the shoulder joints.

Oh. You rushed over.

“Are you okay?” You asked in a hushed tone, coming up beside the android’s left side.

“I do not have any damage. All of my systems are operational.” The brown-eyed android said. After adjusting his tie, he turned to you fully. The LED on his temple spun for a couple of moments before settling to a steady blue.

“So…you are okay?”

“I am.” He gave a half smile, encouragingly. “My name is Connor. I am the android sent by Cyberlife.”

“Hi… My name is (Y/F/N). I am a human….who had enough motivation to go to work today.” You paused with a small smile. “I’m an investigative assistant.”

“Perhaps we will both be assigned to the same case. Lieutenant Anderson and I are assigned to any case involving androids.”

“Hank Anderson?” You lowered your voice as you asked.

“Yes. Have you worked with him?” His eyes seemed to brighten.

“Yeah. This should be interesting.”

Connor tilted his head.

Cute. Well at least he’s not teamed with Reed. That’d be a disaster and a half.

Clearing your throat, you clasped your hands together.

“Uh… Not all humans are like Reed, but if he bothers you again… Please let me know.”

“I can handle myself, but I will keep that in mind.”

I hope so. You thought and took a step to the side.

“Good. Uh. I guess I’ll see you around, Connor. I hope your day goes by more smoothly.”

“Thank you.” He gave a slight inclination of his head. “I look forward to working with you if we are assigned on the same case or in passing.”

Smiling in kind, you gave a small wave and left the break room to return to your business.

Whether the android’s words were merely professional or friendly, you had a good feeling about your new acquaintance. You harbored no ill feelings towards androids. Perhaps that was a weakness, perhaps not.

But why would they have an android put on android cases? Hmm.

There would be plenty of time to ponder that question and many more.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Detroit Become Human Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#dbh connor #connor rk800 #rk800 x reader #dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #where dreamers go #detective reed is being mean

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felixcloud6288 · 4 months ago

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Dungeon Meshi Chapter 76

It's him! It's our boy!

Here's some ideas I got based on the title image:

The Lugantes appear to be dwarfs. They have a connection to the gold peelers. Maybe they hire people to assist with mining operations.

One of the gold peelers is dead. He kind of looks like the corpse retriever from chapter 31 who cast that illusion on Kabru's party but I'm probably not right.

The half-foot next to the Shadow Lord looks like the one from the bar in chapter 9. If he is, then that bar was likely owned by the Shadow Lord. I wonder if the people the orcs killed were ever resurrected.

The Shadow Lord appears to have some connection to the corpse retrievers Kabru killed. If true, then the Shadow Lord may have been helping them track adventurers and cover up their actions for a cut of the profits. Maybe he even sent his own men to kill adventurers and sent the corpse retrievers to "discover" the bodies.

That informant isn't an elf, but they're wearing the same cloak the Canaries wear. The informant has a connection to Fionil so I double-checked her appearance and she's also wearing the same cloak the Canaries wear. Fionil and the informant might be working for the Canaries, but the informant might also be acting as a double agent by giving information to the Lugantes as well.

Had to review the last few chapters cause I wasn't sure why Lycion was okay and just chilling with Laios's party.

He wasn't able to help the other canaries last chapter cause he was busy restraining Izutsumi.

Enough time passed since the end of chapter 74 that Izutsumi was able to get dressed. I don't know if I'd rather take the reasonable assumption that Kabru convinced Lycion and Izutsumi to stop fighting and she got dressed after, or if I'd rather take the silly approach and say the two of them just decided to stop fighting on their own and were just sitting around eating the leftover bavarois until Kabru showed up.

Izutsumi's scarf is tied in a bow and I refuse to believe she would have done that, and I am therefore going to headcanon that Lycion tied her scarf into a bow.

Fleki isn't dead so the lion obeyed the letter of Marcille's command to not kill anyone but not the spirit.

Mithrun survived by teleporting into a giant spider. The thing that hit the wall last chapter was the spider's guts.

That's...really gross.

And the teddy bear spider had teeth.

Mithrun can't teleport when making a lot of contact? So this means a grappler opponent is a hard counter if they can manage to grab and pin him before Mithrun teleports them.

Did Kabru choke Mithrun out? And was Mithrun the one who made the cuffs?

The giant spiders having non-spider heads really does just make them creepier. Especially when their bodies get crushed. Spiders have a decentralized nervous system, so limbs can react independently even after the brain is destroyed. And the rabbit-head spider's ears can still move despite being dead.

Is there a name for the way Laios is carrying Cithis? The best comparison I found was the piggyback carry where the rider is supposed to wrap their arms around the carrier. But since she's unconscious, Laios is holding her arms criss-cross to secure her.

Don't ever think Laios is stupid. He had enough intuition to figure out what happened after Cithis hypnotized him.

I don't know why, but I feel like Lycion would get along great with Laios's party. If they didn't have opposing goals, he and Fleki would probably be best buds with the gang.

I keep forgetting that Lycion is a beastman. I jokingly said he was the Canary's Senshi (because of fanservice), but he's actually more like a reverse Izutsumi.

On that train of thought, I'm going to assign Mithrun as the anti-Senshi (Doesn't care about his health or well-being at all), Fleki as the anti-Chilchuck (She seems like a snarker who complains about everything), Pattadol as the anti-Marcille (both are really high-strung and by-the-books), and Cithis as the anti-Laios (She's just evil). I don't know where to fit Otta in this so I'm just going to call her the anti-Namari cause why not?

On a completely pointless note, we can say that Cithis and Pattadol are heavier than Otta because Izutsumi could carry Otta but Laios and Senshi had to carry Cithis and Pattadol.

This image is really disorienting.

The dungeon doesn't adhere to Euclidean space but this just lays bare how nonsense the layout was. In particular, we can see the entrance to the fourth level on the left center of the image. You have to exit out of the bottom of a tower with no other discernible entry points.

The secret town on the sixth floor is in the background and we can see the top layer of the dwarf city ruins under it.

Falin's body has been moved.

Several early chapters in the series brought up the ecologic balance of the dungeon. In particular, I remember Senshi explaining that the golems on the third floor serve as a deterrent to keep the stronger monsters from moving to higher levels.

With all the levels now on the same plane, we're seeing something like that scenario play out. The natural bottlenecks the old dungeon structure had are broken and flying monsters have immediately attempted to expand their territories.

Some monsters can't survive in the upper levels because the mana concentration is too thin. If monsters are managing to move across different environments, that could mean that the amount of mana in the air is increasing as well.

I can't tell if the reason Laios is worried is because Marcille's actions will get people killed or because she's doing a bad job building the dungeon.

Fleki got brain damage when her familiar was killed, but Marcille wasn't affected by her familiars' deaths. It's probably because Marcille's familiars were constructs while Fleki's aren't.

Marcille's familiars were more like drones she was piloting remotely. When the first two were killed by the hippogriff, she had a stressed look to her eyes so the sudden disconnection might be mentally taxing, but it doesn't actually affect her.

Fleki's familiars are conjured by her. She has at least two familiars: the raven familiar she uses in battle and white dove familiars she uses for scouting. I want to guess that the white doves are more similar to Marcille's familiars; they're drones that let Fleki scout in wide areas and likely won't harm her if they get attacked.

Her raven familiar is definitely an extension of her. I mentioned in chapter 74 that she has a tattoo of some sort on her chest. That might be what lets her summon her raven. And she's able to control how much her soul exists in the raven. In chapter 73, she was unconscious until the raven flew back into her. But in chapter 74, she was just remote piloting it.

I realized while talking about Fleki that she wears a hawker's glove.

And again, the Canaries refuse to actually work with non-elves. It might be beneficial to work with Laios, but Lycion told him to not get involved. And as soon as Laios said no, Lycion immediately escalated to violence. Laios doesn't even know why the situation is worse than it seems.

Initially, Laios was in shock when Lycion showed off his power but then he was enthralled.

Kabru does not have a weapon. And I'd say he hasn't had a weapon since returning to the surface. He probably thought he wouldn't need one since he was just going to try negotiating with the Shadow Lord. And then everything happened.

Kensuke was all confuzzled and curious because someone else was holding it.

It's probably a mix of urgency and only recently meeting Kabru, but Laios got over Kabru lying to him really quickly. It's probably happened plenty of times where he met someone, thought they hit it off and quickly learned that wasn't the case. Shuro hurt far more because they'd been together for years. Laios had only known Kabru for about a month, so he could just brush it off as another failed interaction.

Kabru is a manipulator, and Laios is the one person he's never been able to successfully manipulate. He took an interest in Laios because Laios's party had been the most successful at navigating the dungeon, and Kabru wanted to know what might happen if he were to conquer the dungeon.

But at some point, that interest turned into an obsession, especially since he could never ensnare Laios with any of his usual methods. Kabru's conspiracy board shows how all the other figures, adventurers, and organizations tie together; but the Touden siblings sit in the middle of that board because Kabru can't figure out how they connect to anything.

His only avenue to getting close to Laios was by eating monsters, which he hated and it drove him so crazy that Kabru started picturing Laios as a deranged madman who is a threat to mankind.

And with the charade revealed, Laios is figuratively and literally slipping out of Kabru's grip.

Apologizing for his deception gave Kabru one chance to plead with Laios, but he had no idea what to say because none of his manipulations and honeyed words will work. He tried to explain the situation but he knows deep down that Laios doesn't care about the world or the greater good. Nothing Kabru says about the situation will convince Laios to leave a friend behind.

So Kabru decided to be genuine.

Laios's obliviousness to how others feel about him works in two ways. Not only was he clueless to Shuro not wanting to be Laios's friend, he was clueless to Kabru wanting to be his friend. Shuro dealt with a lot of grief because Laios thought they were friends the whole time. And Kabru suffered a lot in his efforts to become Laios's friends.

And they both did the same thing when they reached their tipping point.

And then he airs out all his grievances about Laios's obliviousness.

CANNONBALL BREAKER!!!

It's been a serious chapter and the tension got broken up by Kui reminding us that Izutsumi and Lycion were fighting each other right off-screen during this entire heart-to-heart.

Kabru didn't manage to stop Laios, but he managed to get his point across. While Laios is determined to save Marcille, he will not side with the lion. And when this is over, he and Kabru will sit down and get to know each other.

They all forgot that Thistle's house was converted into a floating island.

back

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi readthrough

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tatert07s · 5 months ago

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Kings

I feel it’s about time for me to create a proper introduction for this project, as a lot of the artwork I make for it, feels very out of context.

Most of the sketches and illustrations you(‘ll) see, are both artwork for my portfolio, but also material for a pitch package.

Kings is a Sci-Fi neo-noir project, whose characters are representative of face cards in a standard playing court card deck. It is a story that utilizes Iranic cultures and politics from West and Central Asia.

Its storyline and “vibe” in a nutshell, can be described as third-person Dishonored, with the aesthetics of a James Bond film (specifically Casino Royale), and a Kill Bill revenge plot.

The setting takes place in the Proxima Centauri system, in a fictional planet called Paraydun.

Characters include:

'Jack' (Kasra) Sardar. A knight and right-hand advisor for the King with an existential crisis. She feels that her purpose in life is unfulfilling, and a big component of her background is kept as a secret hidden from her by her father, Jahangir Shah.

Jahangir Sardar Shah. The King. “The Ageless King” as one may describe. He had been running Paraydun, for greater than ten-thousands of years. He is charismatic and silver-tongued, but also a precarious leader. He assigned ‘Jack’ on a mission to hunt down the Div, a fiend to the monarchy. Really likes a good game of poker.

Tahereh Gharib. The Queen. A newly appointed Chief Executive Officer of Salomat Labs, originally founded by Jahangir Shah. Tahereh is also a diplomat for the judiciary court of Paraydun.

The Div, The Joker: An ex-medical assistant robot—now controlled by a hacker that infiltrates political headquarters and operations. From embassies in space stations, to highly secured agencies in remote areas of Paraydun.

Side character--Matlouba Rajabova (Ace): A Tajik-Afghani immigrant, originally from Kulab, Tajikistan. She is a robotics engineer that specializes in cybernetics.

#project #kings #scifi #art #my art #digital art

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darkmaga-returns · 5 months ago

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“The Shadow Government is a system that manipulates Washington, DC behind the scenes, that operates beyond the control of Congress, that even dictates the actions of the president and affects the daily lives of every American.

It is real and has been growing in complexity for over sixty years.

While the American people work long hours just to survive and make ends meet, the Shadow Government spends billions of dollars on secret operations, overthrowing governments and engages in covert wars that kill thousands – all without any vote or say by the American people; the people … pay the taxes the Shadow Government uses to fund these operations… the people starve while the kings shower themselves in gold.”

Growing-up in Virginia Kevin earned a BA in biology from Virginia Tech in Blacksburg. He later earned post graduate credentials at the Department of Defense Academy for Credibility Assessment in forensic psycho psychology and the detection of deception.

During his career with the CIA,Kevin Shipp held several high-level positions. These include being assigned as a protective agent for the Director of Central Intelligence, Counter Terrorism Center officer and Chief of Training for the agency’s Federal Police Force.

He also supervised the Department of State Anti-Terrorism Assistance Program and managed the protective detail assigned to the president of Afghanistan following the US invasion of that country.

Shipp is recipient of 2 CIA Meritorious Unit Citations, 3 Exceptional Performance Awards and 1 Medallion for Overseas Covert Operations.

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usafphantom2 · 10 months ago

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There is nothing that amuses me more than a secret inside of a secret.

Here’s an article that I wrote that my friend Dario Leone owner of Aviation Geek Club shared about the YF 12 and the secret SR 71 tail number 951.

Most people when they think of the YF 12 think of it as an experimental airplane that never really flew, but that is wrong. It did fly for many years. The last flight was in 1979 when it was flown to the Air Force Museum near Dayton, Ohio you can find it next to the XB-70.

The so-called YF-12C was really the SR-71A 61-7951, modified with a bogus tail number 06937 belonging to an A-12.

Taken in 1975, the interesting photos in this post show NASA Blackbirds carrying the ” Cold wall” heat transfer pod on a pylon beneath the forward fuselage.

The Blackbirds portrayed in these photos are usually referred to as YF-12s, but actually one of them was an SR-71 as Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer), who runs Born into the Wild Blue Yonder Habubrats Facebook page, told to The Aviation Geek Club: ‘In case anybody asked the pictures with the two NASA Blackbirds the one on the top is a YF-12 but the one on the bottom is an SR-71!

‘Another interesting thing about those pictures is that NASA was not allowed to have an SR-71 but they did and they passed it off as a YF-12!

In fact, the “YF-12C” was a then-secret SR-71A (serial no. 64-17951, the second production SR-71A) given the NASA tail no. 60-6937. The reason for this bit of subterfuge lay in the fact that NASA while flying the YF-12A interceptor version of the aircraft, was not allowed to possess the strategic reconnaissance version for some time. The bogus tail number actually belonged to a Lockheed A-12 (serial no. 60-6937), but the existence of the A-12 remained classified until 1982. The tail number 06937 was selected because it followed the sequence of tail numbers assigned to the three existing YF-12A aircraft: 06934, 06935, and 06936. Isn’t that amazing?’

The Coldwell project, supported by Langley Research Center, consisted of a stainless steel tube equipped with thermocouples and pressure sensors. A special insulating coating covered the tube, which was chilled with liquid nitrogen.

Given that the US Air Force (USAF) needed technical assistance to get the latest reconnaissance version of the A-12 family, the SR-71A, fully operational, the service offered NASA the use of two YF-12A aircraft, 60-6935 and 60-6936.

Eventually, with 146 flights between Dec. 11, 1969, and Nov. 7, 1979, 935 became the workhorse of the program while the second YF-12A, 936, made 62 flights. Given that this aircraft was lost in a non-fatal crash on Jun. 24, 1971, it was replaced by the so-called YF-12C SR-71A 61-7951, modified with YF-12A inlets and engines and a bogus tail number 06937.

The SR-71 differed from the YF-12A in that the YF-12A had a round nose while the SR-71 had its chine carried forward to the nose of the airplane. The SR-71 was longer, nearly 8 feet longer as it had an extra fuel tank that the YF 12 didn’t have. There were other differences in internal and external configuration, but the two aircraft shared common inlet designs, structural concepts, and subsystems. Also of note the SR 71C is really a combination of a static display of the SR 71 for the front half and the back half is the crashed YF-12!

In my study of all the Blackbirds, I have found other secrets inside of secrets. Such as the test SR-71 plane the 955. Everyone was told often that this airplane never left the United States, but that is not true.

When it comes to reconnaissance airplanes and War, even if it was a Cold War, Rearranging the facts is fair.

There will always be mystery in the SR 71 program.

Don’t believe that all of the secrets have been told.

I know that is not true.

Linda Sheffield, Daughter of a Habu

@Habubrats71 via X

Tap Title bar to view👇

#sr 71 blackbird #aircraft #usaf #lockheed aviation #mach3+#habu #aviation #reconnaissance #sac #cia

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viewofagarden · 1 month ago

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[Paraview AU] PVS-07 (Qwerty)

Full Name: Qwerty Operating System ID #: PVS-07 Gender: Fem-Nonbinary (She/Her and They/Them) Relatives: PVS-05 (Elder Sister Figure) Classification: Simulacrum Species: Sentient Computer Program Assigned Researcher: Quincy Packard Preferred Food: None (Does not eat)

Discovery

PVS-07 was discovered in the library of a high school in Atlantic City, New Jersey, after a group of students, who shall remain anonymous, encountered the entity. One afternoon in the library, the group of students attempted to download adult material onto the device. This had set off the entity, who suddenly appeared on the screen and responded with “Don't you have BETTER things to do?!” This frightened the teens, as this proved that she was, in fact, sentient. The incident was reported to library staff by the teens, who in turn, reported it to the Paraview Foundation.

The computer PVS-07 resides in was relocated to the facility. Upon questioning by investigators, the library staff noted that her computer was the only one capable of downloading those kinds of images while connected to the school's system, and that the downloading of explicit material was not an isolated incident.

At the end of her Icebreaker Interview, the subject requested that any and all explicit material was to be deleted off her system. This request was granted, with fervor. Dr. Packard was brought in to get rid of the images, and has now been assigned as PVS-07’s researcher henceforth.

"So. Much. PORN...! How horny WERE those students?!” - Dr. Packard

Noted Behavior and Abilities

- PVS-07’s physical hardware consists of an electric blue CRT computer monitor and its accompanying console. These are to be plugged in at all times with the exception of cases where she needs to be relocated to another area of the facility. PVS-07 is normally located in the Rec Room of the facility, but shall be brought in to Dr. Packard’s office for testing purposes.

- PVS-07, as noted in her discovery section, has a strong disdain and aversion to explicit material that’s downloaded or browsed on her system. The normally jovial and polite subject becomes noticeably frustrated upon this activity. She has also expressed annoyance toward a song about the subject from the musical Avenue Q. As such, SafeSearch and filters have been implemented. Staff or subjects that are caught doing these kinds of activities with the subject are to be properly reprimanded.

- The subject behaves similar to that of a virtual assistant, being able to interact with and manipulate the programs on the computer such as the email, calendar, to-do lists, documents, etc.

- The subject has been shown to use emoticons displayed on her screen, and the screen of her computer, to express her emotions.

- The subject has also been able to view and with games, music, literature, and other things downloaded onto the computer. PVS-07 has also been noted to frequently request things to be downloaded for her, likely for entertainment purposes. Dr. Packard has been seen bringing in new games from their home to download onto the subject’s system.

- Dr. Packard has been instructed that the games and media on her system shall only be those considered “family friendly”, and to leave the more “mature” games at home. This restriction was implemented after Dr. Packard brought in their copy of Duke Nukem 3D, which, upon PVS-07 seeing the objectionable and risque content present within the game, was very displeased. This restriction shall also apply to the rest of Staff and subjects.

- Subjects such as PVS-13 (“August”), PVS-29 (“Finn”), PVS-46 (“Zester”), are to be at least 6 feet away from PVS-07’s computer. Due to risk of short-circuiting, causing seizure-like symptoms in the subject.

- PVS-07 has developed a close relationship with PVS-05 (“Vee”), despite not being biological related, they have come to see each other as siblings. PVS-07 especially considers PVS-05 a “kindred spirit”.

-In the case of a blackout or emergency shutdown, the flash drive in the console shall be removed and transferred over to a laptop. The flash drive was implemented to preserve the subject’s existence in case of these events.

-After an incident where PVS-07 became infected with a computer virus, anti-virus software has since been implemented into her system. Staff and Subjects were also given a lecture in the auditorium to teach/remind them of computer safety in order to prevent future incidents both to the subject’s computer and the rest of the computers in the facility.

#paraview au #dandys world #dandy's world #dandy's world fanart #dandys world fanart #dw fanart #dw oc #dandys world oc #dandys world ocs #dandy's world oc #dandy's world au #qwerty operating system #suggestive text

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kastlequill · 2 years ago

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i/v. ‘til my pulse loses time: pulsus bisferiens

pairing: kyle gaz garrick x f!reader word count: 1.3k synopsis: the first time you save gaz tags: whumptober, gunshot wounds, blood and injury, wound tending, hurt/comfort, medic!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: none ao3: read here next →

Tuesdays were unremarkable. They couldn’t compare to the infamous Mondays or halfway-mark Wednesdays, to anticipatory Thursdays or the thank-God-it’s Fridays, least of all to the relaxing Saturdays and Church-going Sundays.

The new orders you received last Tuesday, however, were anything but plain. There was nothing ordinary about getting shipped out to a classified location to provide aid to the soldiers injured during their classified missions to eliminate classified targets.

You knew next to nothing about your current assignment. High command had informed you that you’d be working as the lead on-site medic, tending to the wounded and assisting in their recovery to the best of your abilities. That was all your superiors had felt the need to tell you.

The base of operation was fairly sizable, well stocked, and even had a couple other medical personnel around to help too, so you couldn’t really complain. You’d primarily be dealing with soldiers who were designated as special operators, and, in your experience, those types made absolute dogshit patients. Only a single week had passed, yet you could already tell that some of the lot were more injury-prone than others.

A specific British SAS sergeant came to mind.

Your first time meeting him had been relatively benign; he’d entered the mess hall as you exited. Although speedily heading in different directions, he had nonetheless offered a casual salute, and you had returned his gesture with a nod of your own. Simple, polite. No fuss.

The exact opposite of how he arrived to you today, the second Tuesday of the month.

Two towering men flanked him on either side as they shouldered their half-conscious comrade into your medbay. With them came chaos. Thick English accents yelling for a medic, combat boots storming toward you, dragging in a trail of blood. They brought war to your feet and Death to your door.

Rushing over to them, you quickly scanned the sergeant’s body for damage. Preliminary assessments yielded speculative results at best: a tourniquet around his thigh told of prior heavy bleeding, and the sway of his head meant he wasn’t fully capable of supporting its weight. But nothing was certain.

“What am I dealing with here? Concussion, gunshot wound, broken bones—?”

“—got caught in the blast radius,” interrupted a gruff voice belonging to the masked lieutenant. “Knocked ‘im back a few meters. No major visible injuries, ‘cept a bullet to the leg.”

You swore. “Is it still inside?”

Exit wounds typically offered a better prognosis; the energy driving forth a gunshot needed somewhere to go, and, preferably, that somewhere was far from surrounding organs or internal systems. If the piece of metal remained lodged inside of him, then you would have to remove it.

He answered with a single definitive nod. Unsurprising; of course nothing in war ever turned out for the better.

“Put him on my table. Carefully.”

The two soldiers hauled their brother-in-arms up onto the examination table that had seen more action within a week than most ever did. Trauma to the head required immediate attention; the brain was a delicate organ, and if the explosion had badly jostled it against the walls of his skull, there could be severe damage.

Unwilling to waste a second longer, you gently parted the now-supine man’s eyelids with your fingertips to get a look at his pupils. In the midst of an unfocused sea of brown, one pupil was more dilated than the other—concussed, then. At the intensity of the blue overhead light, he reflexively squinted and shut his eyes once more.

That wouldn’t do. “Sergeant, I need you to open those eyes again, okay? Think you can track this flashlight for me?”

Being as sensitive to brightness as he was currently, it took some effort for him to pry his eyes open. They valiantly fought the urge to close whilst following the stick-end of your black flashlight from left to right, right to left. There was some unsteady shakiness to their movement, but they still appeared properly calibrated.

“You’re doing great,” you encouraged, holding his gaze as you pocketed the light. The next course of action was to check his processing of visual information. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

He blinked slowly, an inquisitive frown contorting his features. Several confusion-riddled seconds elapsed until the man decided to simply feel what he could not see. Grasping your hand in his own, he grazed your knuckles with a calloused thumb, explored the lengths of your raised fingers, puzzled out how they were configured into the shape of a peace sign. Recognition sparked in his eyes.

“Two.”

An endeared smile graced your lips. The only predictable constant in this profession was its unpredictability. None of your previous patients had done that before.

“Try again.” You lightly pulled your hand free and watched his own fall back to rest on his chest, physically unable to sustain the lifted position. Unfurling your ring finger to join your index and middle, three total fingers hovered in front of his face, just out of reach. “How many do you see now?”

Without using his sense of touch to determine the correct number, all the sergeant could do was sigh and reply honestly. “Six.”

“Y’can’t be serious, Gaz. The limit’s five,” his mohawked companion corrected, a hint of incredulity and amusement slipping into his tone.

“Quit taking the piss, we’ve got ten of ‘em.” The words were slurred, but intelligible. As he spoke, his brows began to furrow, the man suddenly unsure of himself. He looked at the captain, whose belated entrance managed to diffuse some of the anxiety present in the room. “Right, sir?”

The room erupted with noise as the three other soldiers simultaneously began to talk over each other. You were able to catch the occasional bloody hell and heard yes, Gaz, that’s right and even chuckled a bit at no need to worry, you still ‘ave all ten of the little bastards.

Military folk had a specific way of coping with the consequences of war, and you didn’t think you would ever quite understand it from your side of the line. But if it worked, then it worked. What mattered was the patient’s ability to persist in spite of the world; the exact methods used to do so weren’t up for scrutiny, not by you or anyone else.

Donning a clean pair of surgical gloves, you exchanged glances with the technician and nurse on duty. “Get him a CT scan. Let’s make sure his brain’s in one piece, then we can deal with the bullet. I’ll prep the OR.”

When you made to leave, a tug on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. A quick turn of your head revealed the image of his loose yet insistent grip around you once again, unwilling to let go of what had seemingly become his sole anchorage to the land of the living.

“Don’t worry,” you said softly, squeezing his hand in yours. This—comforting the wounded—was as much a part of the healing process as medicine itself. Even the toughest of soldiers reverted to a childlike state of vulnerability after too close a brush with death. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

The tension in his features relaxed as did his hold on you, and he lowered himself to lay flat on the table’s surface before being wheeled away by the technician. As you watched his form disappear beyond the threshold of a plastic curtain, you were struck with a near-overwhelming sense of foreboding.

Though you hoped this Gaz wouldn’t soon return with an irremediable injury, optimism had never been your strong suit.

tbc.

#kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #cod gaz #cod #call of duty #whumptober #my fic #one day late but we out here #fic: ‘til my pulse loses time

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